St. Patrick’s Day

I wrote a post 10 days ago in which I asked why we don’t celebrate a notable person’s death, rather than their birth. Today is a sort of answer to my question.

St. Patrick’s Day is a celebration not of the birth of St. Patrick, but of his death. According to tradition, St. Patrick dies on March 17, 461 AD.

I wonder how many other examples there are where we celebrate a death rather than a birth? The only one I can think of off hand is Good Friday.

Continuous interfaces

If you go onto the Wikipedia to look something up, you can mouse over someone’s name, and their picture, if there is one, will show up. But when you do that you are not making any decisions.

If you really want to know more about that person, you need to click on their name, and then you will be taken to their page. Which means that you will be leaving the page you were on.

This is different from what happens when we interact with documents in real life. In the physical world, we can spread out papers on our desk. We can also take a book down from the shelf, leaf through it, and lie it down on the desk, keeping it open to a particular page.

At no point are we “leaving” the documents that we were looking at. They are still right there on the desk, remaining open to us, as available as ever.

This ability to see multiple documents is somewhat approximated by computer interfaces with multiple open windows. But on a computer screen we usually don’t have the flexibility to move continuously nearer or farther away from a document, the way we can with paper documents when we move our physical body about a real room.

I wonder whether the ability to go beyond the discrete “click” action will become more available as mixed reality improves. Ideally we should have the best of both worlds — the ability to instantly make connections and look things up afforded by computer interfaces, as well as the ability to continuously and simultaneously navigate between many open documents afforded by the real world.

The Ides of March

The Ides of March comes the day after Pi day
Whether it falls on a Tuesday or Friday.
It was always this way and forever will be
Yet somehow it seems most peculiar to me
That a day of betrayal should follow so close
After one that is so very far from morose.
I wonder if Caesar, that day just begun
Took a moment to look to the glorious Sun.
Did he stop for a moment and ask himself why
As he gazed at that bright shining orb in the sky
The ratio formed by its rim to its height
Is always unchanging from morning till night?
For some laws are eternal, when Gods so decree
And try as we might we can’t change what will be
Or did he just think to himself “I am late!”
As he rushed to the Senate, and so met his fate?

Pi day

I know it’s irrational, but I love Pi day. There is something about it that feels transcendent.

It seems like only yesterday that we celebrated the previous Pi day, and now we have come full circle.

Everyone in my social sphere loves it too, and probably everyone within a mile radius. Let’s all celebrate by having some pie.

Making diagrams

I am working with some colleagues on a large proposal to the National Science Foundation. Every once in a while, I need to stop word-smithing, and instead explain what we are doing by making a diagram.

I know that that’s supposed to be work, but there is something just so darned fun about explaining things in pictures. It feels less like work and more like play — sort of the grown-up equivalent of a kid getting to color with crayons in school.

I think that this is because when you make a diagram, you aren’t just communicating ideas. You are also communicating, in a visceral way, how those ideas relate to one another. The physical arrangement of the components of your diagram is itself an important part of the story.

Words are amazing — they are our human super power — but sometimes a well-designed diagram gives the sense of things, in a way that words could not. And maybe that’s why the part of proposal writing where we make diagrams is so much fun.

Zoom anniversary

Today is the third anniversary of my first ever use of Zoom. I taught a class on Zoom for the first time on the morning of March 12, 2020.

To put this into context, on the morning of March 11, 2020 I had not even heard of Zoom. But then came March 12, a Thursday. That was the day my University went suddenly and completely virtual, which it remained for a year and a half.

We now take Zoom so much for granted that we forget how recently most of us had never even heard of it. We would occasionally use Skype, but for most people it was not a primary means of communication. And then one day we were all transported into the opening credits of The Brady Bunch.

People are again meeting in person, but we will never go completely back to the way things were. I now have quite a colleagues around the world, people I have never met in person, with whom I regularly meet over Zoom to discuss shared research.

Zoom, it seems, is here to stay. Now if only they could fix the problem of who is looking at whom…

That moment in the movie

I absolutely loved the Jordan Peele movie “Nope”. I saw it by myself, which I think really helped me to appreciate it. Seeing it alone, it felt as though I was reading a very thoughtful novel.

I saw that on IMDB quite a few people gave the movie a 1 out of 10 rating. They didn’t just dislike it — they actively hated it. Some wrote that it was the worst movie they had ever seen.

I had quite the opposite reaction. Peele packed so many ideas into that one film, and he did it with subtlety. Rather than hitting you over the head, the movie forces you to tease out the many overlapping meanings on your own.

But there was one moment in particular that was absolutely transcendent. I have rarely experienced a moment in a movie when so many threads of meaning have come together in one startling camera shot.

But I can’t talk to anyone about it, because I would need to find somebody else who saw the movie. And nobody I know seems to have seen it.

Future skills

Today, if you want to make something really original on the computer, and somebody hasn’t already written a program for you to make that particular kind of thing (like Minecraft or Photoshop or PowerPoint), then you need to write code. And writing code is a difficult to learn and specialized skill that most people never master.

I think one of the major changes that will be brought about by this new generation of chatbots is a fundamental shift in this paradigm. These tools allow you to describe the things you want to create in plain English, without needing to explicitly write out the computer code to implement what you’ve specified.

This will enable children of the coming generation to develop a new kind of literacy. Those children will grow up to be adults who possess the ability to create things for themselves that until now have required a full-on knowledge of computer programming.

The skill to work this way with a chatbot assistant does not yet widely exist. But in the future it will.

Many of the things that people now need to hire programmers for, they will be able to do for themselves. And this will have a transformative economic impact, the way the rise of mass literacy between 1600 and 1800 transformed the European economy.